There’s a peculiar truth about nostalgia and I think it’s time we discuss it. That truth: nothing was ever as good as we remember it. Nothing. Not the touch, not the taste, not the sound, not even the moment.
But that’s what makes nostalgia so fucking great, right? It’s not about how accurate our brains are at recalling things we’ve experienced (because honestly, who cares.) It’s all about the escape. The return. Thank god for the memories.
Enter nostalgia. Many of us fell in love with the sounds of Frank Ocean years ago. And for many of us that love is just as strong today if not even stronger. Frank has been a master of nostalgia from the very beginning and we thank god for the memories.
They say in life there are 3 kinds of “unknowns”— things that we know we don’t know (known-unknowns), things we know that we know (known-knowns), and things that we don’t know we don’t know (uknown unknowns.) We really don’t know shit.
We sat in our homes & scrolled & liked & reblogged any and everything on his tumblr, most of us on the brink of high school graduation. It was nostalgia, ultra. Our lives were about to change forever and we knew that (but not really.) Sounds became literal images of our childhood in songs like “Strawberry Swing.” He sang the tune of the final summer in your hometown, that last shift at your local grocery store, and the last days with high school sweethearts. We could have never imagined then that our lives would be what they are now. Thank god for the memories.
We grew up and Frank did too. Life had it’s way with us all. He continued to sing the tune of our lives as wanderers, displaced in foreign lands (college, military, you name it). We continued to push. But when life as carpetbaggers became too much, we always had nostalgia. Thank god for the memories.
Fandom doesn’t appear out of thin air so it’s important to explore the roots and foundations of where it comes from. Regardless of whether or not we get new music on 8/5, we always have nostalgia. Those things good and pure and innocent will live on forever in our memories. That first time sneaking out of the house. That first date. That first drink. House phones and playing that game of “you hang up first!” Prom. That first blunt. The first time you realized that nothing lasts forever.
Nothing was ever as good as we remember it. Nothing. Not the touch, not the taste, not the sound, not even the moment. But if you listen closely . . .
Thank God for the memories.